Lethal Valentine
by Diamond Snowflake
Summary: AU: One is falling and can't stop. The other is struggling to move forward from a past of darkness and pain. When they meet, sparks will fly and an unlikely love will blossom as one offers danger and death, the other a key to salvation and redemption.
1. Paintings and Memories

Pairings: GrimmIchi, past ShiroIchi, RenRukia, others

Warnings: Swearing, violence, non-con in later chapters

Disclaimers: I do not own Bleach or any of its characters. Everything belongs to Tite Kubo.

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><p>Valentine's Day: (noun) - A day when lovers have a legitimate excuse to shower the one they loved with tokens of affections in public. In other words, a day dedicated to lovers looking for a happily ever after.<p>

Ichigo absolutely despised it.

For him, the stupid day was just a way for some cruel higher being to rub in his face that he would never experience that sweet ending so many blind romantics believed they would have, not that he really believed in that sappy crap anyway.

His pace increased as he walked down the hallway of the college building, pointedly ignoring the couples loitering around that were blushing and giggling as if they had reverted back to being awkward teens in high school.

He breathed a small sigh of relief when he finally reached the door to his next class and one of his favorites, painting.

In addition to being far more expressive than a card decorated with frills and a box of store-bought chocolate, it was also an outlet for him.

Cliché as it sounded, painting had been one of the things that saved him from the dark, suffocating memories of his past that made death's promises of painless oblivion seem all the more tempting.

When he had felt like he'd reached the limit of his endurance and had been about to put an end to everything, he had remembered the precious words someone had once told him a few years back.

"_Ya've got such great artistic ability Ichi! Why don't ya try takin' an art class with me?"_

"_What's so great about art? Lots of things! It'll let ya say what ya want an' no one will be able ta really understand yer message unless they know ya. Art could be our little secret way of communicatin' instead of usin' those stupid texts and junk." _

That person had been right.

While he couldn't share it with a special person, art allowed him to express what he couldn't say in words and made it so that the only thing strangers could see was a beautiful mesh of colors that created almost painfully sad but undeniably gorgeous masterpieces.

Even better, it usually made them wary of approaching someone with such an intense but rather angsty art style. Ichigo didn't really care about what others thought of him but he preferred that they kept their distance; he was afraid one of them would try to get too close and then there would be a repeat of the painful endings he'd already put himself through.

The only exception was his small group of friends he had somehow generated despite his anti-social personality. They helped him when things got difficult and although the details of his past were murky to most of them, they never pried for more information and for that, he was extremely grateful.

Speaking of which…

"Itsugo!"

"There you are! What took you so long you slowpoke?"

He rolled his eyes slightly and wondered how two women could be such polar opposites yet the best of friends.

Neliel Tu Oderschvank more commonly referred to as Nel was a tall, very well-developed woman with long flowing sea-green hair and she had a charming albeit slightly childish personality.

Kuchiki Rukia on the other hand, was a petite raven-haired woman with a more reserved demeanor unless she got mad and had a tongue that could be sharper than a knife which she used mostly whenever someone said something degrading about her friends.

The only similarities they had were their obsession with an odd bunny plushie called Chappy and their fierceness when they got angry.

Although he hadn't met either until he came here and thus they knew nothing about him, they had had their own fair share of difficulties and understood his need for privacy, letting him tell them things when he was ready. He appreciated that and now here they were, somehow friends and colleagues in the art department.

"I had to stay back and talk to my literature teacher about something and then dodge the couples making out in the hallways so chill midget. And get your stuff off my seat."

Rukia huffed but only in playful indignation as she moved her backpack off the chair she had been saving him, allowing him to sit down and start setting up.

"What's the assignment today?" he asked idly as he arranged a palette of different colors of paint and various paint brushes on a stand near his easel.

Nel tapped her chin with a delicate finger thoughtfully before replying, "I think Kuni-sensei said the theme was 'Memories'… Oh and he told us to tell you to try to paint something a bit more light. He's impressed by all your work so far but he feels that it might do you some good to express happier emotions."

When a small uncomfortable look flashed in his eyes, she quickly added, "But he also said that if you like making pieces the way you've been doing them, then that's fine too!" Her own expression drooped a bit as she mumbled apologetically, "Sorry Itsugo I didn't mean to upset you."

Shaking his head a bit, Ichigo replied, "No it's alright Nel, it's just that… I can't make anything happy anymore even if I wanted to." A distant look came over his face and a flicker of understanding passed through Nel and Rukia as the latter lightly punched his shoulder and said, "Then do what you usually do you emo."

He retaliated by ruffling her hair and messing it up much to her annoyance and to his and Nel's amusement, silently thanking the diminutive woman for lifting the gloomy mood.

They quickly started working when they noticed they had wasted fifteen minutes of class time, and easily fell into the familiar routine of focus and paint. For now, it was just them and their work and everything else faded into the background.

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><p>An hour later, a break was called so that students could rest their cramping hands and critique others' works. Rukia dropped her brush with a sigh as she stretched her limbs and heard a satisfying crack.<p>

"Man, one of these days we're going to be permanently stuck in a slouched position with our hands hovering over paper."

Nel giggled before noticing Ichigo still hadn't stopped. That wasn't unusual but she was always curious about what he painted since his paintings were always on a whole other level than everyone else's.

When she and Rukia peeked over, they were surprised since it was a little different than what he normally did.

There was a black vase sitting on a table covered with an equally black, lacy tablecloth reminiscent of something one would see at a funeral. Inside the vase was a bouquet of red roses, one of them a pure white color that clearly stood out amongst the rest with a few of its petals falling off and floating down to rest on the table. The final touch that Ichigo was currently adding was a single white lily resting at the base of the vase near the edge of the table, a small drop of red hanging off the edge of one of its petals.

Ichigo's attention was solely focused on what he was doing, not even hearing the compliments other people were giving him. They thought he was being rude, Rukia and Nel knew otherwise.

This piece was extremely important to Ichigo and once it was graded, it would probably be locked away in a cabinet he used to store his other pieces that had him as attentive when he was painting as he was now.

When the stem of the lily was finally finished, a semi-long strip of green elegantly curling and draping over the edge of the table, Ichigo snapped out of his reverie and examined what he'd painted.

His expression was curiously blank, only a hint of an unidentifiable emotion showing through when he abruptly covered the painting with a cloth.

Standing up and grabbing his things, he quietly asked Rukia and Nel to bring the painting to his dorm once it dried before quickly leaving the room, not even registering Kuni-sensei's demands to know where he was going and the bewildered stares of his peers.

He bolted down the hallways and out of the building, refusing to slow down his pace until he was a good distance away from the school grounds. He was vaguely aware of being nearly run over a few times but his sense of safety was mostly drowned out by his desperate need to flee.

He finally stopped at the corner of a building and leaned against a wall, trying to regain his breath and a hold over his rampant emotions as the image he had painted kept flashing in his mind.

That painting had been far too revealing and it was way too soon for him to be able look at it without breaking down. It had depicted the story of his first love and how it ended and it hurt. He reached his hand up and curled it around a small white crescent moon dangling from a chain around his neck.

It wasn't fair that the one he had promised to spend forever with had to be killed in cold-blooded murder by members of the gang he had been a part of.

"_I won't ever forgive the bastard that put a bullet through his head. I want them to give me back the one person who meant more to me than even my mom."_

'_I want them to give me back Shiro."_

Ichigo closed his eyes and allowed the memories of Shiro's arms wrapping around him to calm his throbbing chest and it worked, to a marginal degree. At least he wasn't on the verge of hysterics anymore.

As he got a firmer hold over himself, he became aware of his surroundings and now noticed the sounds of pained breathing coming from the alleyway between the building he was leaning on and the one next to it and he wondered if he should go see what was wrong.

He really didn't think he was qualified to try to help someone when he had some serious issues of his own but curiosity and his natural doctor instinct got the better of him and forced him to go check it out.

Warily entering the alley, he glanced around hoping that his eyes would quickly adjust to the dim lighting in the surprisingly dark area. The first thing that got his attention was the color blue, a vivid electric color that seemed to glow in the shadows. Creeping a little closer, Ichigo was surprised by how well built the arms of the owner of the bizarre hair looked. For someone who didn't seem like any push over, it was strange that he had been on the losing end of a fight.

It was only after he nearly tripped over the prone body of someone else that he realized it must have been a tie or something close to that. Now that he could see a bit better, he could tell that the fight must have been pretty big. There were bodies all over the place and he would have been very disturbed if they'd all been dead.

Thankfully, it just looked like they were all unconscious but the one with blue hair had some pretty serious wounds. Seeing how the vast majority had a weapon near their body that had been dropped most likely from when they were knocked out, Ichigo put two and two together and figured that it had been a crowd versus one match, something he hadn't had to deal to with since his high school years.

Sighing a bit, he pulled out his cell phone and called another one of his strange yet close friends Ishida Uryuu, requesting him to ask his dad to send multiple ambulances to the street he was at. The perk of being friends with the son of a talented doctor was that he wasn't questioned for the reasons of needing so many ambulances.

That settled, he debated on his next course of action. The blue-haired guy needed medical attention immediately and it would be risky to wait for the ambulances but Ichigo was reluctant to get involved with another person who was most likely tied to gang-related things.

But that reluctance crumbled when he saw some nasty bruises and gashes littering the guy's arms alone so giving in to his inability to leave someone in need, he carefully grabbed the less injured arm and pulled it over his shoulder before standing up.

'_Holy cow, this guy was heavy!'_

Heavy was an understatement but Ichigo luckily hadn't been a master in multiple martial arts for nothing and he had managed to stay in shape for the most part. With a bit of struggling, he shifted the body to a more comfortable position before he started heading back to campus.

Silently thanking the absence of students because they were still in class and the lack of teacher patrols since most were really lax about security, he lugged the dead weight to his dorm without any confrontations.

After somehow heaving the heavy body up a couple flights of stairs and into his room, he took a moment to catch his breath before kicking the blankets off his bed and carefully setting the body onto the sheets. He made a mental note to wash everything before his roommate and friend Hirako Shinji returned and freaked out at all the blood stains.

Grabbing a few first-aid things from the small bathroom, he settled into the task of bandaging the wounds. To his credit, when he peeled off the blood-soaked top and got a close-up of the injuries, he barely flinched and instead, focused on cleaning them and wrapping them up neatly. Checking for broken limbs, he was surprised that there weren't any but then concluded that the guy had been smart and had avoided taking the brunt of any powerful hits.

As he worked, he failed to notice intense cyan eyes watching him under hooded eyelids.

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><p>AN: The first chapter of one of 3 possible future stories! I'm currently working on two stories and I was thinking of starting a third but I'm having difficulties choosing what to write T_T It'd be nice if people checked out the ideas I have and then voted which one they want to be worked on~


	2. Regret and Fateful Encounters

Valentine's Day; an incredibly retarded day for morons who felt the need to declare their undying love through paper and food since every other normal day wasn't "special." A day meant for people who clearly needed to get bitch-slapped back into reality.

Such as this charming bastard he was about to beat the shit out of.

"P-please wait! I promise I'll have the money by tomorrow, just let me live! Veronica, she's waiting for me and today is special and I-"

"You make it sound like I give a flying fuck whether your lover's waiting to give you fucking chocolates or if she's dyin' from cancer. Let's get something straight, I _don't._ The only thing I care about is whether you have the fucking money or if I'm gonna have to start makin' things bloody."

The man whimpered and weakly begged for more time, causing his attacker to sigh in irritation before saying, "Guess this means I'm gonna have to make an example outta ya." The man began spilling out more pathetic pleas but they went ignored as a fist grabbed the collar of his suit and jerked him up until he was staring directly into dangerous cyan blue eyes.

"I'll paint ya nice and red for your girlfriend so that she'll never forget this year's Valentine's gift from you."

Many sickening crunches and muffled agonizing screams later, the man stepped out of the shadows and lit a cigarette, ignoring the fact that his hands still glistened with freshly spilled blood. It didn't really matter anyway. Considering this was in the impoverished side of town, the police wouldn't give a rat's ass even if he shot someone in broad daylight.

Inhaling deeply before letting out a stream of smoke, the man tilted his head up at the sky, the deep blue matching the color of his hair.

"_Almost two years since that time huh?'_

The one instance in which having a reliable police force would have been good had passed, thus the reason why he was such a miserable existence currently despite his poor but thrilling childhood.

Having been born and raised in the slums, Grimmjow Jaggerjacques was not one for feelings of regret since sentimental feelings like that generally got you killed but that one incident was an exception. It had actually been after that time when his life really went to hell.

As a child, he had scorned the many men and women in the impoverished neighborhoods for their weakness towards addictions and random flings since it was a waste of hard-to-get money and it had seemed stupid. Now, he was one of them although he at least had a reason.

Smoking, drinking, one-night stands, anything that made him forget was welcome although he knew enough not to cross into the world of drugs. He couldn't afford to get weak or addicted or else he would get killed. Granted, he probably deserved it considering the number of lives he had ruined but still, he wasn't quite ready to kick the bucket yet.

Living with the guilt of having killed his best friend was the last thing he could do in his memory. Actually, that wasn't quite right; he had another thing he needed to do which couldn't be accomplished unless he was alive. Pulling a small object out of his pocket, he glanced at it contemplatively and wondered how he was going to find the companion piece to the precious treasure his friend had given him in his final moments, quietly asking him to give it to someone who he now didn't remember since he had tried to block that moment out of his memory like the coward he was.

Looking at the small object started to bring back unpleasant memories of that horrible night so he quickly took several long drags from the cigarette, hoping to quell the overwhelming flood of images racing through his mind.

Running a hand through blue locks, Grimmjow took another deep inhale before deciding smoking wasn't enough. Snubbing the cancer stick out, he stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans and headed to the one person he could trust to have a bar of hard liquor open this early in the day.

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><p>By the time he arrived at his destination, the sun was still quite high in the sky and only just setting, casting a delicate faint pink shade in the wispy clouds.<p>

'_How fucking fitting, a pink sky for a shitty day like the one dedicated to a moronic baby who shoots people with arrows.'_

Grimmjow scoffed as he pushed open the door to a dirty but large bar called _Los Lobos,_ owned by the oddest pair of siblings he had ever met.

Stark Coyote was an extremely lazy narcoleptic with the fastest shooting skills known to mankind. He also happened to be his superior in their gang, the Arrancars since he was the personal assassin for their arrogant but undeniably powerful and cruel leader. His younger sister was a fiery, girl with mismatched eyes called Lilinette Gingerback but she was more infamous for her ability to hide vast amounts of ammunition in seemingly nowhere so her brother never ran out of bullets.

Personally, Grimmjow thought she should be famous for her kicks since people more often than not found themselves on the receiving end of them. How someone with so much spunk and energy could possibly be related to a man who barely had enough energy to wake up for more than five minutes would remain a mystery to him.

Speaking of kicks…

A foot collided painfully with his shin and he hissed out a string of curses before giving the petite girl a glare and snarling, "What the hell was that for?" She returned his look with her own nasty one as she jabbed a finger towards a barely functioning clock and shouted back, "We don't open until 6 in the evening you idiot! What the hell are you doing here at 3:30 in the afternoon?"

His eyes briefly flickered away from hers as the uncomfortable memories threatened to return. He was about to give a lame excuse when a tired but firm voice said, "Leave him alone Lili, if he wants a drink, let him have one." She huffed before snapping, "Fine." Giving Grimmjow a hard look, she impatiently asked, "Well? What do you want this time?"

Sending a silent message of thanks to the already sleeping man, Grimmjow ordered, "Five shots of solid vodka." A thin eyebrow was raised as she asked incredulously, "You plannin' on getting yourself mugged or something?" He gave her a weary look and said tiredly, "Just get me the damn alcohol."

She looked like she was going to argue but then thought better of it as she went behind the counter and grabbed a bottle from one of the shelves of bottles while muttering, "You're gonna have one mother of hangovers tomorrow."

Her words were a complete understatement since by the time he stumbled out of the bar and down the street, he had downed six shots of vodka and an entire bottle of beer. Maneuvering his way clumsily into an alley, he leaned over and vomited out a disgusting mixture of his lunch and a lot of liquid from the alcohol. Once he felt like he wasn't ready to puke anything else out, he moved away and pressed his forehead against one of the cool brick walls surrounding him.

"Fucking hell that was a bad idea" he muttered as the world seemed to insist on spinning madly no matter how many times he blinked. The sound of an empty can getting crushed grabbed his attention though, and he turned his head a bit only to mentally groan.

'_This is why I hate days like fucking Valentine's Day. They're the only times my luck seems to decide to take a vacation to some LalaLand and leave me with karma's bitch.'_

Just from the end of the alley he was looking at, he could see about fifteen people, all of whom were holding bats, pipes, and oh joy, some were even wearing brass knuckles. How fucking thoughtful.

One of the guys, who clearly thought he was a big-shot or something, swaggered forward with a condescending sneer and said, "Well lookit what we got here boys, th' big bad Sexta of the Arrancar gang. Not lookin' too good there are ya?"

Managing his own mocking smirk, Grimmjow asked, "Your ugly mug doesn't look familiar. Ya either have a death wish or I kicked your ass a while ago and it was so pathetic that I don't remember doing it. So, which is it?"

The man's face turned an interesting purple in fury as he spat, "Bark while ya can Sexta. Once we're done with you, ya won't even be able ta 'member who the bitch was that gave birth to ya."

Grimmjow found that a bit pointless since he already forgot the face of the prostitute who had forced him into this dump of a world but he barely had time to think about it before he dodged a particularly nasty looking swing to his head with a lead pipe.

"Heh, I've been in a pretty cruddy mood today so I guess I'll play with you weaklings." Adrenaline rushing through him and temporarily fighting off the dizzying effects of the alcohol, he stood up to his full intimidating 6'3 height and stated with a cocky smirk, "If you pussies want even a chance of winning, you better attack me all at once."

With a chilling cackle of laughter, he shot towards one of the groups and smashed his fist into the face of one person, relishing in the sound of bones cracking and blood spurting out of a now broken nose and jaw. Whirling around, he caught a bat that had been about to hit him and jerked, sending the assailant stumbling forward and into the kick aimed towards his abdomen.

Swiftly crouching down, Grimmjow swung a long leg in a smooth sweeping arc, tripping multiple idiots who had tried to charge at him and using them as shields from a barrage of hits from a couple of men with the brass knuckles.

Jumping up abruptly, he swung his leg again and did a complete roundhouse, effectively sending one of the knuckle fighters spinning into the other before he decked both of them in the back of neck.

He had now taken care of one group but as he turned to take care of the rest, the nauseous feelings from the alcohol swarmed his head again and made him falter, a hesitation his attackers didn't waste.

His head snapped to the side when a fist contacted his cheek in a painful blow and as he tried to regain his senses, a pipe found its way to his stomach, sending him flying back and colliding with the wall he had leaned on only half an hour ago.

He was barely conscious but pushing through the waves of dizziness, the survival instincts he had obtained through years of stealing and fighting on streets kicked in and he was only vaguely aware of fighting back despite the numerous wounds he was receiving all over his body.

It was only when every single person had been defeated or knocked out that his body finally gave in and he collapsed onto the ground, breathing harshly. Hundreds of bruises and cuts littered his body but it was a small comfort to know that he had avoided any broken bones.

Through the cloud of pain that threatened to knock him out, he managed to get his hand to pull out the small object from his pocket for what felt like the last time.

Slowly dragging it up, he let it dangle in his hand, a thin chain with a small black crescent moon glinting as a small bit of light reflected off its smooth surface.

'_Che, looks like I won't be able to keep my promise. I can't give this back to the one that idiot was so smitten with."_

His hand barely managed to slide the necklace back into his pocket before it gave out as well and one final thought flashed in his mind before he slipped into black nothingness.

'_Looks like I won't be able to find and apologize to the kid I stole that idiot from.'_

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><p>A jolt of pain when his injured foot connected with one of the steps of a flight of stairs started to bring him back to reality although he couldn't quite muster the energy to open his eyes yet. The feeling of someone holding him up and the sounds of tired breathing told him that he was pretty much at the mercy of someone else, probably another group of thugs looking for revenge, but he honestly didn't care at this point.<p>

He heard the sound of a door being opened but instead of being dropped onto a cold cement floor like he expected, he was laid carefully on something that felt suspiciously like a comfortable soft bed.

When he heard the person who had treated him so cautiously leave, he let his tired eyes open a bit and briefly look around. The room was nice, small but definitely not something that would be found in the neighborhood he lived in. Before he could examine the room further, the person returned so he quickly closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

Soft footsteps padded over before a figure knelt down next to him and to his bewilderment, began tending his wounds. Soft but steady hands deftly cleaned his injuries in the least painful manner he had ever felt before professionally wrapping them in clean white bandages. Opening his eyes just a bit out of curiosity when the person began gently prodding around for broke bones, he nearly stiffened.

It was the face of both a stranger and of the best friend he had killed two years ago.

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><p>AN: 10 points to whoever can guess who Grimm's best friend is XD Anyway, I'll work on this at random intervals at least until I figure out which story to focus on. So if you liked this then please vote on the pole in my profile~ Don't forget, reviews are loved and there's no such thing as too many!


	3. Connections and Truths

Ichigo wasn't a very big fan of surprises since he honestly couldn't predict how he would react. So when he set down the roll of bandages and noticed a pair of eyes watching him, he nearly had a heart attack. Letting out a very manly yelp, he almost knocked the blue-haired delinquent out but managed to hold himself back just in time. Of course, in the process his hand jerked and banged against the bed post causing him to hiss in pain.

Rubbing the back of his hand, he muttered, "Damn, that hurt! Sorry, did I wake you up when I was bandaging something?"

Instead of responding, the guy just kept staring at him which made him feel extremely uncomfortable. He was relieved when the man slowly sat up but did _not_ appreciate it when all of a sudden, he was tackled and pinned to the ground by a heavy weight with his hands held down by a vice-like grasp. Ichigo had been completely unprepared for that and he was about to angrily demand the rude jerk get off him before he kicked his ass when said jerk began speaking in a harsh snarl.

"Who the fuck are you?"

'_That's my line you ass!' _"I fail to see why it matters since I was going to call a hospital and have them pick you up so you could get professional help for your wounds and then we'd be out of each other's hair anyway. Now can you move?"

The man didn't budge an inch and Ichigo was sorely tempted to kick him when he heard the man murmur something. Straining his ears, he managed to catch the gist of it, "… the fuck does he look like him…?"

His face resembled someone a delinquent knew? Ah, now he understood why the guy must be confused. Letting his body relax marginally, Ichigo said, "If you're confusing me with someone else then you must have known… Shirosaki." Damn, it still hurt to just say something as simple as his name despite the fact it wasn't even the affectionate shortened version.

The person holding him down narrowed his eyes. "Why the fuck do you look like him?" The question confirmed Ichigo's suspicions and he sighed before replying, "Doesn't matter. If you knew him then you should know he's dead." A strange look flashed in the blue eyes and Ichigo swore that it looked like guilt before it was replaced by what he assumed was the usual hardened cold look.

"If you knew him then does that mean you knew his lover?"

Ichigo instinctively stiffened and his thoughts raced through his mind in a panic. _'Fuck, how did he know? Wait, calm down. He phrased it like a question so he doesn't know for sure. Of course, you gave yourself away with that obvious body reaction but maybe he won't notice…"_

Calming down his jumpy nerves, he very tentatively said, "I… didn't know he had one." The man quirked a thin blue eyebrow and Ichigo just knew he didn't buy that. But he refused to say anymore so he stubbornly glared up, daring the him to push for more.

"Then at least tell me what your connection with him is." _'Bastard doesn't know when to give up does he?' _ Ichigo just immaturely stuck his tongue out, a rather childish challenge saying "Make me" which made a vein twitch above the other man's eye in irritation.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, glaring at each other on the floor and trying to make the other yield, but both jolted a bit in shock when they heard the sound of a bag dropping and a small gasp.

'_Oh crap, he finished shopping faster than usual. I didn't even hear the door open! Why did he have to return early _today_ of all days?'  
><em>

If there was thing Ichigo really hated about his friend and roommate Hirako Shinji, it was that he had the most awful timing known to mankind. Not to mention he was the most flamboyant gay he'd ever met but that was beside the point. All in all, Shinji tended to cause him more problems than solve them, a spectacular example being now, but it was really hard to be angry with such an energetic and admittedly amusing person.

Like right now, he was starting to get the impression that the blonde should get a trophy for the most impressive imitation of a goldfish. Why he was opening and closing his mouth like that without saying anything, he hadn't a clue. Was it that strange for him to have someone over?

"… Ichigo, when did you get such a hunk? And how was I not aware of this? And more importantly, please continue. I haven't seen something this delicious in forever!"

Oh, that explained everything. Ichigo felt his face heat up since he realized that the current position he and the stranger were in was extremely compromising and would most certainly give the wrong impression. Like the one his friend had.

"Wait a second Shinji, it's not like that!"

Shinji blinked. "Oh, I see. Leave it to me then." He then proceeded to lift a large metal bat from behind the door and with a sadistic gleam in his eyes, said "So he's a rapist? No worries Ichi! I'll save you!"

Ichigo's eyes widened comically as he exclaimed, "Shinji no-" when said person rushed forward with an impressive speed and swung the bat down. To both of their surprises, the man just turned his upper body a bit and effortlessly caught the bat with one hand, the other still holding one of Ichigo's wrists down.

There was a slightly awkward silence before Shinji suddenly had sparkles in his eyes. "Oh that was magnificent! Ichigo, if you two aren't together, can I have him?" Ichigo groaned at his friend's antics before saying to the blunette, "Hey, can you get off me now? Neither of us mean you any harm."

Seeing the slightly disbelieving look, he rolled his eyes and explained, "Shinji was only testing you. If you really were some rapist, Shin wouldn't have just used a bat. He's better at using sharp objects or some weird form of martial arts that he came up with. And if either of us wanted to hurt you then we wouldn't do it on the third floor of a dorm building with people living beneath us."

Searching the eyes of the body below him for lies and finding none, the man slowly pulled himself up into a standing position, warily watching Ichigo sit up.

Shinji twirled the bat in one of his hands expertly and asked, "So, who is this Ichigo?" Running a hand through his hair, Ichigo replied, "Just someone I found on the streets. He was injured and bleeding a lot and it would have taken too long for an ambulance to get where we were so I brought him here and did a quick bandaging of his injuries."

Shinji bobbed his head in understanding before scrutinizing the person they had yet to identify. He glanced down at the man's side since part of his shirt had ridden up, revealing skin and some lovely abs but then something else caught his eye. His cheerful smile instantly dropped and was replaced by a frown and a guarded expression while his body tensed ever so slightly. "What's your name?"

Ichigo blinked in mild confusion; Shinji wasn't usually so sharp or serious sounding even when he was facing an entire group of homophobic jerks that were itching to beat him up. Wondering what had happened to cause Shinji to do a complete 180 in personality and glancing between the two, he had a distinct feeling he was missing something if the sudden tension crackling in the air was anything to go by. He was snapped out of his thoughts when the man suddenly spoke.

"Grimmjow."

Mouth opened in surprise due to the fact he actually answered, it took Ichigo a few seconds to realize the person now known as Grimmjow was speaking to him, not the blonde. He wasn't even looking at Shinji even though he was the one who asked the question. He was so busy trying to figure out why that he failed to notice Shinji's eyes had narrowed into dangerous slits.

"Get out."

Ichigo whipped his head around and stared at his friend. He had never heard his friend use such a loathing tone towards anybody, even towards the people prejudiced against his sexual preferences. Stranger still was that he used it against someone who he would normally be ready to pounce on. "Shinji why are you…?"

"It doesn't matter. I don't want someone like him here any longer than necessary." Ichigo still looked utterly perplexed so Shinji placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "You don't wanna get involved in another gang-related mess do you?" Well, of course not but that didn't really explain Shinji's odd behavior.

Looking at Grimmjow and then back at his friend, he knew Shinji wasn't going to be complacent about letting the delinquent stay until his wounds healed so pulling away from the blonde, he walked towards a small closet and rummaged around in it. Making a small exclamation of triumph, he pulled something out and walked over to the blue-haired man. "Look, I don't know why Shinji doesn't like you and you didn't exactly give me a good impression either but still, I want you to have this."

Grabbing Grimmjow's hand and ignoring the small twitch it caused, he placed a scarf on it. It was a really dark blue color that almost seemed black and it felt nice and warm. It had been a present from his idiot father who couldn't seem to grasp the concept that blue really didn't match his hair in a very fashionable way no matter the shape or form. Unfortunately, he hadn't wanted to just throw it away since it was a present from family so it had been stuck sitting in the closet for a while. He was glad he hadn't thrown it away since it now had a use.

"It might be February but it's still cold outside. You should walk around with warmer clothes than what you're wearing or you'll catch a cold. I wasn't ever going to wear this anyway and Shinji doesn't want it either so you take it."

Grimmjow just stared at the cloth in his hands with a slightly puzzled expression. Ichigo blinked and asked, "You do know what a scarf is right?" A vein twitched in irritation as Grimmjow snapped, "Of course I do! I was wondering why the fuck you're givin' it to me…"

Ichigo gave him a look that clearly asked if he was an idiot. "You're wearing short sleeves and jeans when it's only 23 degrees outside, of course I won't just let you walk out there without something to keep you warm! I would offer a coat too but neither Shinji nor I have the same body size you do so just take the damn scarf."

Shinji looked like he was going to argue against doing anything nice like that for the delinquent but a glare from Ichigo silenced any complaints. Huffing, Ichigo looked back at Grimmjow and said sternly, "One more thing: don't do any strenuous work or you'll reopen your wounds and if that happens, you'll be on your own. I don't make it a habit to get mixed up with people involved in suspicious activities so I don't want to ever see you again."

Blue orbs drilled into brown ones and Ichigo thought he heard Grimmjow grumble something like, "Pushy like him too" under his breath. A smirk abruptly appeared on Grimmjow's face as he casually replied, "Feelings are mutual brat. But we're gonna run into each other at least one more time since I have to return this to you at one point or another."

Furrowing his eyebrows, Ichigo objected, "No it's for you to keep-" But Grimmjow was already walking away and out the door, calling back, "I'm only keeping it for now since it looked like you were gonna fight me if I didn't accept and since I ain't supposed to do any 'strenuous work,' I'll compromise for now. See you later Berry."

Ichigo scowled and resisted the urge to chuck something at the retreating bastard's head, he really hated it when people called him that. He hated it even more that they were no longer nameless faces to each other. He hadn't wanted to tell his name or for that matter learn Grimmjow's since that meant they weren't strangers but acquaintances and he really didn't need to know any more gang members.

Sighing, he suddenly remembered his friend's odd behavior and looked at the blonde questioningly. Shinji had fallen into deep thought though, so Ichigo waved his hand in front of his face for a minute before snapping his fingers sharply.

Shinji jolted out of his reverie as Ichigo said dryly, "I take it you're not going to tell me anything even if I promised to hook you up with a hot guy, right?" The familiar grin that revealed piano-like teeth appeared again as Shinji replied, "Actually, I was plannin' on warning you about that guy once he left. What I'm gonna tell you requires a bit of privacy."

His face grew more somber as he said in an uncharacteristically gentle voice, "If I'm right about who that Grimmjow person is, then that means he's part of the Espada, the gang Shirosaki used to be a part of. Not only that, I think he has one of the higher positions too which means he either witnessed or was involved in that murder two years ago."

Brown eyes widened to the size of saucers as Ichigo numbly stepped away. "What…?" Shinji sighed and said, "This is why I didn't say this when that guy was here." Leveling a sympathetic look on his friend, he added quietly, "I didn't think you would appreciate someone like him seeing you so vulnerable."

Wrapping his arms around himself, Ichigo's lithe frame trembled slightly as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. Shinji didn't say anything else but he did walk over and wrapped his arms around the younger man comfortingly.

Ichigo didn't cry but the trembling increased a bit as Shinji rubbed soothing circles on his back. Shinji was the only one aside from family who knew about Ichigo and his lover, the only one who knew the true sinful nature of their relationship.

Squeezing Ichigo reassuringly, he was reminded of how the orange haired man was the day Shirosaki had died. It pained him to know that his friend couldn't even cry over the death of his love having lost that ability long ago along with his beloved mother. It was even worse that both had been murdered on the exact same day just in different years.

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><p>AN: Oh geez I'm having too much fun writing these stories. I love forbidden romances 3. The one between Shiro and Ichi is different from the usual Romeo and Juliet relationship so look forward to it~ And as always, please review!


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